Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Everyone wants to know the secret to wisdom. I can’t share it
with you, because then it wouldn’t be a secret any more. (To be fair, that
statement isn’t necessarily true. Everyone wants to know the secret to wealth.
Only some people want to know the secret to wisdom...)Our sages tell us that a wise person is one who
contemplates the ramifications of his actions. He doesn’t just look at the here
and now, but he thinks through the long-term effects of his decisions before
proceeding.

I think about this often during my morning commute to Teaneck.
Although from Monsey to Teaneck, the most direct route is with the Garden State
Parkway to Route 17 to Route 4, during the morning there is often building
residual traffic from the George Washington Bridge on Route 4 that would cost a
few extra minutes. Therefore, most mornings I come with the Palisades Parkway.
Doing so means driving past Teaneck all the way to the George Washington
Bridge, before getting onto Route 4 and traveling west for a few miles.

Just before the GWB, the road splits. For a few feet the
lanes run parallel, but then the lane to the right lead to the tolls, after
which the road leads directly onto the bridge. To the left the road continues
back into New Jersey.

It’s striking that the sudden split in the road leads to two
different worlds. One leads into Manhattan - skyline, congestion, city traffic,
and all, while the other leads back into rural New Jersey.Throughout sefer Mishlei, Shlomo Hamelech
contrasts the fool with the wise man. According to the wisest of men, the fool
doesn’t refer to one with limited intellectual capacities, but rather one who
doesn’t think through the consequences of his actions. The fool lives in the
moment, driven by the now, and doesn’t contemplate the long-term ramifications
of his actions. A wise person on the other hand, weighs his options and
proceeds with caution, making a calculated decision that he feels is his best
recourse in the moment and for the foreseeable future.

The Purim story contains the story of a fool and a wise man.
The fool is Achashveirosh, a man driven by lust, temper, paranoia, and ego. In
a fit of rage, he executes his wife, and at a later point his highest-ranking
minister. He agrees to genocide of a nation of loyal tax payers because of deep
enmity. Then he makes an about-face and humiliates his prime minister, forcing
him to lead his archenemy on a massive parade through the streets of the
capital. His only credential for queen is exterior beauty that he ascertains
through an intimate relationship. Knowing that he usurped the throne by killing
his adversaries, he lives in fear that the same will happen to him.
Achashveirosh’s decisions are dictated by his whims and emotional temperature
at any given time. He lives for now, without considering how it will affect
tomorrow.

Mordechai is the polar opposite of Achashveirosh. His every
decision is made with forethought and equanimity, even in the face of crisis.
When all the citizens of Shushan are invited to a royal feast, he sees through
the veneer, and warns the Jews that this is a sinister event. Although it seems
that the party is a celebration of the consolidation of the king’s monarchy, Mordechai
recognizes that in truth it’s a celebration of the fact that the rebuilding of
the Bais HaMikdash has been halted and the Jews would languish in exile.

When Esther is taken to the palace, he exhorts her not to
reveal her identity. He isn’t exactly sure why, but he senses that secrecy is
necessary for what will occur later on.When the evil decree was dispatched, and the
nation could have been reduced to panic and terror, Mordechai remains a voice
of reason and equanimity. He is able to rally the nation to mass repentance
until the decree was annulled.

Our greatest mishaps happen in moments of weakness when we
get lost in the moment, and don’t think about later on. How many arguments and
fights result from someone jumping to conclusions or allowing even justified
frustration to consume him?

Conversely, our greatest moments come when we retain our
composure during the most difficult and trying moments.

Purim celebrates the victory of self-control over the lack of
self-control, a holiday of wisdom triumphing over folly, of emotional strength
over emotional weakness.

Often two paths may set out along the same route and run
parallel to each other at the beginning. The wise man looks ahead to see where
the road will lead and has the self-control to maintain his direction along
that path until he successfully arrives at his destination of choice. Even when
the path he chooses is the road less traveled he is undeterred and undaunted!

Thursday, March 14, 2019

Fall back and spring forward, or is it fall forward and
spring back? Or is it fall into a spring and spring out of your fall?

Whatever it is, as of this week we are back on daylight
savings time. For most of the world, the night we spring forward is a difficult
one, as everyone grumbles about the tragic loss of an hour of sleep. This contrasts
with the night at the beginning of autumn when we return to standard time which
is a virtual holiday, celebrating an extra hour of sleep.

But for those of us blessed with young children, our
experience is quite different. On the morning after we fall backwards, it seems
that no one informs our blessed cherubs about the time change, and they are
awake an hour early, ready to conquer the day, our pleas for just a few more
minutes notwithstanding. When we sprung forward this week on the other hand, we
also didn’t tell them and thereby gained ourselves an extra hour before they
began jumping up and down in their cribs for liberation.

On Monday after the time change, throughout the day I felt
more tired than usual. While I woke up the same time as I always do, my body
felt it had been deprived of an hour of sleep. I tried to explain the whole
concept to my body, but it wasn’t getting it. It’s a little dumb in that way.When we think of who we are and what defines us
we often think of our physical bodies. Ask someone who he is, and he will
generally point towards his heart. But is that really who we are? Is our body
what defines us?

Whenever I have attempted dieting, I was told that the first
step is to train your body. Sometimes the body will crave food even though it’s
not really hungry.

It sounds like such a funny concept. It’s as if my body has a
mind of its own and won’t accept my instructions.

On a more extreme level, there are people whose bodies have
deteriorated from disease and are no longer physically active. Yet, some of
these patients continue to convey their thoughts and produce beautiful essays
or even art, through an incredible computer program that can decipher their eye
movements. No one can argue that such people, despite being trapped in
virtually incapacitated bodies, are still very much alive.

So, who are we really? We must be more than our stubborn,
fickle, and unreliable bodies. We all know the answer, but we often forget it.
We are a soul - a living spiritual spark which contains our deepest feelings,
personality, and dictates our decisions. It’s the piece of us which lives
within a body in this world, but ultimately transcends the limits of this world
when the body is left behind.Purim, the holiday which seems to be the most
physically oriented, actually touches the deepest part of our identity. Celebrating
our physical survival compels us to contemplate what physical life means to us.
It forces us to ask if we are celebrating life, exactly what are we
celebrating? What does life mean to us? Is it for the pursuit of money and pleasure?
Or is it an opportunity to find meaning, to connect with G-d, and to enhance
the lives of those around us?

Unfortunately, it often takes a crisis and the almost loss of
life before one appreciates what life is about. Purim was and is that annual crisis.
We came frighteningly close to annihilation before the incredible salvation
took place. As we read the Megillah, it should give us a moment of pause to
reflect upon our mortality and what being granted a second chance means to us.

Our bodies may not define us, but it is our lifeline in this
world. When it breaks down, we feel the pain, and when it’s healthy it is far
easier for us to go about our day. We can’t celebrate soulfully unless we can
pacify our body and let it join the celebration. That is why we celebrate
physically on Purim. It is so that we can get past our physical inhibitions, so
that our soul can truly rejoice.

If we never get past the physical celebration however, we are
limiting ourselves to enjoying the gift wrapping and never getting to the real
gift inside.

Perhaps after a l’chaim or two one may fall backwards, but
ultimately Purim is an opportunity for our souls to spring forward and upward,
a celebration of the real essence of live.

Thursday, March 7, 2019

My rebbe, Rabbi Berel Wein, often quips that all
rabbis like to say a few words before they speak.

This week’s Musings is quite a milestone, in that it
is the 500th “Rabbi’s Musings and Amusings” I have written. 500 is quite
a milestone! I am grateful for this forum and for my loyal readers who indulge this
literary presentation of my random thoughts and ideas each week.

I would also be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that
the concept behind this weekly essay was directly inspired by Rabbi Wein. I find
it remarkable how much of an impression Rabbi Wein has had, and continues to
have upon my thinking, perspectives, and world view.

At my high school graduation from Yeshiva Shaarei Torah
in June 1997, I had the privilege to represent my class in making a presentation
to Rabbi Wein. Rabbi Wein had been our Rosh Yeshiva and was making Aliyah that
summer. We had dedicated our yearbook to him in gratitude, not only for the
inspiration and leadership he provided to our class, but for his two decades at
the helm of the yeshiva.

During that speech I related an anecdote that a
Shaarei Torah alumnus had told me. He recounted that he was walking on the side
of a busy road in Monsey one Friday afternoon, when a familiar car pulled over.
The driver was Rabbi Wein who motioned for him to get in so he could drive him
home. When he got into the car the radio was on and he heard the following
conversation:

“Hey Bob, did you go to the Mets game yesterday?”

“Of course, I went to the Mets game yesterday.”

“But it was raining cats and dogs yesterday?”

“I don’t care if it’s snowing two feet. I don’t
miss a game for nothing!”

At that point Rabbi Wein pointed to the radio and
quipped, “There’s tomorrow’s speech!”

One of Rabbi Wein’s underlying messages is that
life is full of lessons if you are tuned in to them. One need not be a scholar
or intellectual. He just needs to have his eyes opened and think about things
as they happen. When one mindlessly meanders through his days and weeks, his
life is lackluster, and he loses out on the messages that are there for the
taking.

I don’t have the opportunity to see Rabbi Wein too
often, but I have the pleasure of continually being inspired by his recorded
lectures and written messages.

I noticed that one of the words he repeats
constantly in many of his lectures is ‘somehow’. That itself is a powerful
message. When teaching about history, and particularly Jewish history, so many
events are baffling and remarkable. As the adage goes, the truth is stranger
than fiction. Jewish history has always been uncanny and unpredictable. It is
impossible to understand how and why events have happened. The Jewish people’s
revival after the Holocaust, the successful revitalization of Torah, Israel’s success
despite the odds and hostile hateful neighbors, and in fact our continued
existence, all miraculous and unbelievable. The only appropriate word is ‘somehow’.

Rabbi Wein also notes that the ‘somehow’ is the
force of a G-d who doesn’t work by our agenda, and definitely doesn’t read the
New York Times. He often quotes the verse in Yeshaya “For My thoughts are not
your thoughts, and My ways are not your ways, says Hashem.” If it were up to us
we would often choose to do things very differently. But that’s why He is G-d,
and we are not.

Each time one of our sons were born, I inquired
whether Rabbi Wein happened to be in the New York area, and would be able to
attend the b’ris. It had not worked out for our first three sons.

But two-and-a-half years ago, the week after our
twins were born, I called my friend Heshel Teitelbaum, Rabbi Wein’s grandson
and asked again. Heshel replied that Rabbi Wein had actually just landed in New
York, but at the time his late wife was very ill, and he didn’t think Rabbi
Wein would be up to attending.

The next morning, Heshel called me back and said
that his mother thought I could ask. With great excitement, I called Rabbi Wein
and notified him about the b’ris. I was careful not to actually invite him
(halacha dictates that if one is actually invited to a b’ris they are obligated
to attend, so the custom is to ‘notify’ and not actually invite people to a b’ris),
but I noted how meaningful and special it would be if he would come.

To my delight Rabbi Wein attended and was the sandek for our
older twin, Gavriel Yehuda. It is impossible to put into words how much that
meant to me. I found myself becoming overly emotional when I publicly thanked
Rabbi Wein for attending and being the sandek. I felt that one of my foremost connections
to the past was instilling into one my connections to the future his lifelong
mission to perpetuate the glorious chain of Jewish life.

Every one of the five hundred Musings I have merited
to write and disseminate has been influenced by this outlook that has been imbued
within me by Rabbi Wein. I am eternally grateful to him for his decades of
tireless efforts and influence upon our generation of Torah Jewry. He often
wryly notes that it is always nice to hear one’s self eulogized while they are
still vertical. I consider it a privilege to be able to express these brief
sentiments about how much he means to me and undoubtedly to so many of his
disciples the world over.

May Hashem continue to grant him years in good
health, to reap the nachas and fruits of his indefatigable labor, from the
myriads of lives he has influenced in drawing people closer to Hashem and
Torah.

He has taught not only Torah itself, but he has made
it his mission to impart (in G-d‘s words) “My spirit that is upon you, and My
words that I have placed in your mouth”. May he merit the continuation of that
verse, “They will not be removed from your mouth, or from the mouths of your
children (students), and from the mouths of your children’s children, from now
until forever.”

And, as he often concludes, may we all merit nechomas
tzion ubinyan Yerushalayim (the comfort of Zion and the rebuilding of
Yerushalayim).

Thursday, February 28, 2019

An excerpt of the following article appeared in Hamodia’s
Inyan Magazine, November 28, 2018:

THE FLOWING WELLS: WHY
RABBI TWERSKI IS MISTAKEN

Rabbi Dani Staum, LMSW

Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski is an incredibly insightful
person. He has a vast base of experience and knowledge that he has amassed
during his decades of service in the mental health field and to the Jewish world.
His courage in facing issues that were often ‘swept under the rug’ and offering
guidance and hope to many who suffered in silence, has revolutionized how these
issues are dealt with. He has dedicated his life to teaching and educating
through his numerous books, articles, and lectures. He has enhanced the lives
of parents, spouses, in-laws, children, and friends, and taught invaluable
lessons about relationships generally.

That’s a small part of the reason I don’t feel I
have any right to disagree with him. Yet this week I took issue with something
he wrote, and I feel justified in openly disagreeing.

On Motzei Shabbos I was reading this past week’s
Hamodia magazine. There I came across Rabbi Twerski’s most recent article
entitled “My well has run dry.”

In the article, Rabbi Twerski expresses his
gratitude to Hashem for his numerous accomplishments throughout his career. He
describes the places he had the privilege to visit and how gratified he always
felt by his ability to teach.He then
adds that he is currently disabled, suffering both physically and emotionally,
and is no longer able to accomplish and do what he has done throughout the
previous decades.

Rabbi Twerski acknowledges, “I cannot lecture the
way I used to. I must search for words. I do not remember things I wish to
discuss. I cannot reach for a sefer, nor can I recall where in the sefer I can
find the item I want. I must change the idea of what is important to me.”

Rabbi Twerski uses the remainder of the article to
discuss the great chesed of Hashem, and how one can, and must, acknowledge and
appreciate it always. He concludes: “My well has run dry, but Hashem’s well is
overflowing.”

It was painful to read. A man who has done so much
for so many, expressing his sadness in his ability to continue what he has once
done, and yet expressing his limitless gratitude to G-d for the opportunities. After
I read the article, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was moved by the
courage and candidness of the article. Rabbi Twerski was characteristically open
about his personal struggle and shift in perspective. But beyond that I was
very bothered by his conclusion that his well has run dry. I would like to
explain why I humbly and respectfully disagree.

This week I heard a
powerful thought in the name of Rav Avigdor Miller zt’l. In parshas Chayei
Sarah, when Eliezer arrived at the well in search of a shidduch for Yitzchak,
he was completely overwhelmed by the incredible chesed of Rivkah. Here was a
young girl who was excited to perform incredible acts of chesed, even as robust
and capable men stood around and watched her.

Rabbi Miller wonders
from where Rivkah learned such behavior? She
grew up in a home devoid of such righteousness, and her community definitely
did not promote such extreme acts of chesed. He concludes that such extreme and
even fanatical devotion to chesed could have been learned from only one source,
i.e. her great-uncle Avrohom.

Travelers from Canaan would relate stories about the
incredible chesed of Avrohom and how at a hundred years old he sat outside in
extreme heat searching for wayfarers with whom he could perform chesed. The
travelers spoke of an orchard that Avraham planted, into which he brought his
guests, where he would treat them royally. He served them and inspired them to
serve G-d.

Rivka internalized the stories and she pined to that
level of chesed. It is noteworthy that the words describing Rivkah’s chesed are
exactly the same words that the Torah used to describe the deeds of Avraham:
“And she hastened…and she ran.”

It emerges that essentially Eliezer’s ability to
find Yitzchak’s wife was a direct result of the chesed of Avrohom.
Metaphorically, the spiritual waters from the spiritual wells that Avrohom dug
in Canaan, were drawn in Mesopotamia by his great niece Rivka.

Throughout our lives we seek to live in ways that
benefit others. The mission of a Jew is to make the world a better place in any
way he/she can: “l’saken olam b’malchus Shakkai - To perfect the
universe through the sovereignty of G-d.” In his introduction to Nefesh
Hachaim, Rabbi Yitzchok of Volozhin writes that his father would constantly
reiterate to him that a person is not created for himself and his own welfare.
Rather, he is created to do his utmost to help others and improve the quality
of their lives.

What we do for others are the wells we dig which
provide nourishment for their souls.

It is superfluous to list all of Rabbi Twerski’s
incredible accomplishments through the decades. Being a rabbi and doctor, Rabbi
Twerski is comfortable in the world of Torah, chassidus, education, and
medicine. He followed the advice of the Steipler Gaon when he went to medical
school and in developing his career.He
did not back down in the face of adversity and criticism when he felt something
had to be said and taught. He never stopped writing and teaching as long as he
had the strength to do so.

As a rabbi and therapist myself, Rabbi Twerski is
one of my foremost role models in trying to navigate the world of education,
rabbanus, and mental health, and to use my abilities to benefit Klal Yisroel. I
must add that I do not know Rabbi Twerski personally. I am just another one of
the masses who has much to be grateful to him.

Rabbi Twerski has dug so many wells throughout his
fruitful and incredible career, and the Jewish People will continue to benefit
from his ceaseless efforts for many generations.

It is a reminder to all of us that we need to do
our utmost throughout our lives to dig wells that can provide nourishing waters
for others to drink from. If we do so, then the wells will continue to provide
water long after we have dug them.

So, I conclude by saying that although Rabbi
Twerski may be unable to dig any new wells, the ones he has invested so much
into digging will continue to produce life-sustaining waters for many years to
come. His wells have not run dry, far from it.

May Hashem grant him the health and years to enjoy
the fruits of his labors and continue to inspire Klal Yisroel by his mere
presence.